


Operation: Seduce Windblade

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bad Flirting, Character Study, F/M, Fantasizing, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Dynamics, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Rattrap watches Starscream attempt to seduce Windblade (he's failing, of course), and indulges in a bit of daydreaming about the jet couple.
Relationships: Rattrap & Starscream (Transformers), Starscream/Windblade
Kudos: 7





	Operation: Seduce Windblade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Decepticonsensual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/gifts).



> [First posted to Tumblr on August 13, 2014 as “Drabble #111 - Rattrap, Windblade and Starscream.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on April 15, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

The alien was all talk.

Rattrap snickered, sipping a cube of fancy energon from his little hidey-hole in the back of the room. He wasn’t quite hiding from the up-and-ups of the newly established goons Starscream was delegating his government work to, but he might as well have been. Rattrap was ignored pretty easily from his place against the wall, just the way he liked it. Let them have their little dinner party after the meeting, and let um mingle all they wanted. It gave him a great view of the room, good energon, and plenty of time to take notes.

His current subject, was the alien Windblade. Metroplex’s little translator and nursemaid. Rattrap tilted his head, licking the side of his lips. His main observation: She was all talk. Little Ms. Cityspeaker gave a big old speech to Optimus about how she was going to keep Starscream in line, and watch him, but now that she was all alone she wasn’t so tough.

Little bit more obvious Starscream ruled the planet when Optimus Prime and Megatron weren’t breathing down his neck. Rattrap swirled his drink around in the glass, coating the sides in the glowing liquid. Still, though. She had access to Metroplex, which made her a bit of a concern. Windblade wasn’t so good with talking to Cybertronians, but she could talk to the titan they were all surviving off of just fine.

Which was probably why Starscream was hitting on her.

Rattrap snorted into his drink. It was an odd mixture of sad and funny, watching those two. Rattrap wasn’t sure who he pitied more: Starscream laying it on too thick because it wasn’t working, or Windblade who couldn’t shove him off because everyone was watching and he was her boss. Rattrap finished off his glass with a gulp.

Either way, Starscream’s “Operation: Seduce Windblade and Get Her to Do What I Want Because I’m Gorgeous” was in full effect.

For the first part of his plan, Starscream had taken the liberty of cornering Windblade against a table in the middle of the room so she couldn’t run off to the bodyguard. He had one hand on the table, boxing her in with the other hand on her arm. Windblade’s wings were flat against her back, all the way down. Her smile was so fake, even bootleggers couldn’t have passed it off as the genuine article. Starscream noticed, but it didn’t stop the sugary compliments and heavy handed flirting from leaving his mouth.

If it had been Rattrap in her shoes, he would have jumped on the offer Starscream was putting out.

As long as Starscream thought his little seduction plan was working, he wouldn’t resort to anything else. Rattrap shifted, rubbing the edge of his chest with the side of his hand. Not like anyone would notice a paint transfer if it was red on red, so the chance of a public scandal was way less. A little interface here or there never hurt anyone. Certainly better than how Metalhawk ended up.

Starscream leaned in closer, whispering something in the side of her helm that made Windblade’s eyes pop open like saucers. Her hand moved like she was ready to slap him, but it gripped into a fist instead. Starscream smirked, and shifted his hand across the table to draw a little circle on her hip. She dropped the fake smile, swapping it for a neutral straight line of her lips. Starscream’s seductive smirk started to take on an edge of plastic, more and more forced as she continued to reject him.

Idiot, Rattrap scowled.

If she keeps that up, Starscream’s ego will take a blow, and then he’ll be mad. Then she’ll be a real target and Rattrap’ll have to follow her around and do all sorts of fragging legwork. He really didn’t know what her problem was. It was only politics! She wasn’t getting hitched to the guy, just playing the cat and mouse game.

And for once it was equally beneficial!

How hard would it be really, for Windblade to humor him and flirt back. Let him put his hand on her waist and whisper little sweet nothings back and make him grin in triumph when she swoons. Rattrap watched her shift away from him, and Starscream follow, never letting her get more than a few inches away. Windblade should have stepped closer, flush against him, and made him feel like he was winning.

And if she was really smart, she’d play the game full time. After the party ended, Windblade should sneak out and visit Starscream on the balcony or something. Wings down, hands behind her back and a little tilted head. Not play dumb or nothing, because Starscream didn’t like bimbos, but just coy. Let him know she was more than well aware she was almost pretty enough as he was, and could be a nice compliment to his public show.

The Cityspeaker who served their Lord Starscream for the best of the people. Would make great headlines, and of course–there were the other perks.

Like Starscream’s hands on her cheeks and neck, making their way down her arched back and onto her hips. Poison lips whispering lies that sound like truth as background music for a pretty thing sitting in a handsome lap. Rough confident kisses, and exposed wires. Listening to each other moan as they frag in Starscream’s little throne, black hands in her joints and turning her to putty as that voice of hers screams out someone else’s name for a change—

“You stare any harder at her and I’m going to have to hit you, peace be damned.”

Rattrap jerked hard out of his daydream, dropping his drink. It spilled on the floor, and Chromia snorted. She loomed over him from the side, her face glaring with all the intensity of a sun. Rattrap cleared his throat, and rubbed the side of his chest where his spark was beating way too hard.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rattrap said, sniffing indignantly. Rattrap shrugged and gestured to the room of gossiping civilians. “I’m people watching. It’s a party, that’s what you do.”

“I saw that look, rodent,” Chromia hissed. The big blue brute leaned down and shoved Rattrap in the shoulder. “And trust me, she wants nothing to do with you or anyone else on this planet.”

“Not yet,” Rattrap said, tilting his head toward Starscream, who had at this point fully wrapped his arm around Windblade’s waist as he led her to the refreshments table. Starscream had to drag her every step of the way, but Windblade hadn’t shoved his vice-like grip off yet. “He’s persistent.”

“Windblade’s stronger than she looks,” Chromia said, glaring across the room. Her next line was more to herself than to Rattrap, a harsh little self-buttering whisper. “She won’t fall for him.”

“Maybe,” Rattrap said. He kicked his fallen cup under a table and shrugged. “But we’ll see, won’t we?”

Chromia glared, but didn’t offer him a second word. Rude.

“And for the record,” Rattrap smirked, licking the edge of his lip. He tapped his shoulders were a certain red jet’s missiles were. “It wasn’t her I was thinking about. Who’d be interested in someone who ain’t going to be here long?”

Rattrap was already slipping out of her company, and out of the room when the “What’s that supposed to mean!?” left the bodyguard’s lips.

He whistled, disappearing into the hallways. Rattrap might as well enjoy his free time while he had it. Both of the aliens were going to be more trouble than they were worth.

One way or another, they had to go.


End file.
